


Keep The Home Fires Burning

by Rocky_T



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark's story, after Voyager was lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He dreamed about her again, for the first time in many months. The dream was always the same. He saw her standing in the middle of a field, the sun gleaming on her long auburn hair. She was laughing, and waving to him. Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. Just when he almost caught up to her, he saw she was balanced precariously on the edge of a cliff.

"Kathryn! Look out!"

She didn't hear him. Still smiling, she stepped over the edge and plunged down into a black chasm.

"Kathryn! Noooooo!"

He woke suddenly, his heart pounding and his body covered in sweat. 

His wife stirred next to him. "Mark?"

"Shh. Go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, got up and walked over to the window. 

It was a cloudy night, and there was no moon. He took several deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. After all this time, that dream still had the power to upset him. He sighed as his thoughts turned to the woman who had been his first love and had disappeared without warning, without a trace, years before.

~*~

The night before Voyager left on her inaugural mission to the Badlands, they'd had dinner in their favorite Italian restaurant. Mark marveled once again at Kathryn's ability to compartmentalize. If she was preoccupied with thoughts of her new command, she didn't let him feel she wasn't paying attention to him. 

It was only after they left the restaurant that the subject came up.

"You’re not coming back home with me tonight, Kath?" he'd asked, surprised.

She shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, Mark. I've got to be up very early in the morning, catch the first shuttle to Utopia Planitia to make the launch at fourteen hundred hours."

"It's your last night. I thought we'd spend it together." He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. Long ago he had realized that Starfleet, and her duty, would always come first.

"I know, I know, but it's only supposed to be a three week mission. It's not like I'm heading out to deep space," she said, laughing a little. Then, "well, why don't you head back to my apartment with me?"

"And spend the night in that uncomfortable bed?"

"You could always sleep on the couch," she countered.

"No, that won't be necessary. Ah, the sacrifices I make for the privilege of being with you, my love." He sighed dramatically.

She swatted him playfully, then took his arm as they proceeded back to her small apartment which was located a few minutes from Starfleet Headquarters.

The dog turned her head and began barking as they came through the door. Kathryn knelt down beside her. "How's my girl, hmm? It won't be long now till those puppies arrive and you'll be feeling a lot more comfortable."

Mark went straight to the kitchen where he replicated two mugs of coffee. They settled themselves on the couch, with Kathryn snuggled comfortably on his lap, her head against his shoulder. 

"I know this mission isn't going to be as extensive as some of the others you've been on, Kath, but I'm still going to miss you while you're away." He shifted her weight a bit. 

"You always do," she said fondly. "And I'll be thinking of you, especially at night."

"Just be careful. I'd hate to have you miss me so much that you end up having a torrid affair with your first officer as compensation." He leaned back and waited for the predictable response.

Sure enough, she snorted. "Oh, please. John Cavitt is a fine officer, but he's probably the blandest, most boring human being I know. Spending time with him on duty will be quite enough, thank you."

"Must be lots of fun, with both him and a Vulcan on the senior staff." He felt her stiffen. Abandoning his joking tone he said, "I'm sorry. I know you're very worried about Tuvok."

She sighed. "You could say that. We haven't heard from him in weeks. I wasn't in favor of him infiltrating the Maquis cell in the first place."

"You'll get him back, Kath. Isn't that one of the reasons for your mission?"

"Yes. Recovering my security officer, as well as capturing one of the more prominent Maquis leaders. I just hope Tuvok isn't …" her voice trailed off.

"Don't even think it. Didn't you tell me that this Maquis, Chakotay, is a basically decent man?"

"He was an exemplary Starfleet officer. Made the rank of Commander, was on the fast track to his own command. From the reports, he seems to be a man of conscience. He's from a planet in the Demilitarized Zone, filed several formal objections against the Federation treaty with Cardassia. When his home world was devastated by the Cardassians, he took the trouble to come all the way to Starfleet Headquarters to resign his commission personally."

"He could have saved himself the trip, just disappeared like the other officers who joined the Maquis."

"Yes, he's a more or less honorable man, but even honorable men don't like finding spies and traitors in their midst." She was quiet for a moment. "I didn't tell you this before, but there's an unconfirmed report that a Cardassian spy may have infiltrated Chakotay's cell as well. The disappearance of the Maquis ship may be somehow connected."

"Ah, that's why you went to the prison in New Zealand to spring Tom Paris."

"The Cardassians may be there ahead of us, it may even be an elaborate trap. I need the most complete information possible on what's waiting for me in the Badlands, and I think Paris' knowledge of the area as a former Maquis will give me the edge I need."

She rose and took his hand. "Enough talking for tonight, Mark. Let's go to bed."

~*~

A little more than a month later, Mark was at his office, up to his ears in what he not so fondly referred to as "administrivia." It was certainly a sad day, he mused, when a prominent philosopher, member of the renowned Questor Group, was bogged down in minutiae instead of free to pursue higher things.

His secretary buzzed. "Call from Phoebe Janeway on line one, Mr. Johnson."

"Put her through." He leaned back in his chair, wondering why Kathryn's sister was calling him.

Her face appeared on his screen. She looked tired and worried.

"Hey, Sis, are you in San Francisco? How are—"

She cut him off quickly. "Mark, I've got some bad news. My mother had a stroke."

"Oh, Phoebe, I'm so sorry. How is she? When did it happen?"

"Last night. She's in the local medical center and her condition is stable for now. But that's not why I'm calling. Mark, when was the last time you spoke with Kathryn?"

"Shortly before Voyager left Deep Space Nine. Why?"

"I haven't been able to contact her. Starfleet says it's impossible to get a message through."

He tried to reassure her. "It's not uncommon for a ship to be incommunicado while on assignment, Phoebe. Kathryn will understand why you didn't let her know right away. Voyager was heading into the Badlands on a pretty sensitive mission—"

"A mission that was supposed to last three weeks! It's been almost twice that now. I'm telling you, Mark, there's something going on. No one at Starfleet Command will tell me anything, I can't even find out anything about Voyager's last known position or when they're expected back." Her voice was increasing in volume and intensity.

"It's not unreasonable for a mission to take longer than projected; this is not the first time Kathryn's ship has ever been delayed. I think you're getting worked up over nothing, Phoebe. You're obviously upset over your mother's condition and you're reading things that aren't there."

His words had no effect. She looked at him for several seconds and then said grimly, "So tell me, Mark, why is it that the twerp of an Ensign I spoke to said he couldn't tell me anything about Voyager or any of its crew, because I wasn't Captain Janeway's designated 'next of kin.'"

~*~

Mark met Phoebe outside of Starfleet Headquarters a few minutes before their scheduled appointment with Commander Paley, a member of Admiral Nechayev's staff. Despite Phoebe's status as the daughter of the late Vice-Admiral Edward Janeway, and Mark's own prominence as a member of the Questor Group, they could not obtain a meeting with anyone of higher rank.

As they waited at a security checkpoint, Mark glanced over at Phoebe. She did not resemble her older sister. Phoebe was tall where Kathryn was petite. Phoebe's eyes were a deeper blue, her wavy hair black. Yet they shared many of the same mannerisms and facial expressions. At this moment, Phoebe's mouth was set in a tight line and her eyes contained a light that he knew from experience with Kathryn usually meant trouble.

"Phoebe," he said softly. "I know you're feeling mad as hell at the moment. But losing your temper isn't going to do any good."

"I'll have you know, Dr. Johnson, I am as aware of that as you are. What you don't seem to realize is that they're not going to tell us anything unless we show them we aren't going to be put off by some stupid bureaucracy."

Mark found himself getting exasperated. "Cut the crap, Phoebe. If you blow up, we're just going to get tossed out, without learning anything. Is that what you want? I mean it, if you can't control yourself, I'm going in there alone."

"Like hell you will. She's my sister. I have the right to know what's happened to her." Phoebe glared at him, and then her face softened. "I know, you're worried about her too."

He was saved from having to reply by the arrival of their escort.

Commander Paley was a pleasant looking fellow who seemed willing to listen to them endlessly without interruption. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be inclined to give them any information. After twenty minutes of polite evasions, Mark rose to his feet, grasped Phoebe firmly by the elbow, and propelled her out the door.

Instead of exiting the office complex, he led them straight through an inner door. Admiral Nechayev looked up from her desk, her face creasing into a frown at being interrupted.

"Who are you? What is the meaning of this?"

"Admiral Nechayev, my name is Mark Johnson. I am the fiancé of Captain Kathryn Janeway, commanding officer of Voyager. With me is Captain Janeway's sister, and we’ve just spent the last half hour with one of your flunkies who brings new meaning to the phrase 'official blather.' I think it's time now that you tell us what's really going on."

The Admiral's voice was icy. "I don't care who the hell you are, mister, you don't barge into a private office, and you most certainly do not talk to a Starfleet Admiral this way."

"I am willing to extend you every courtesy your rank demands, ma’am, if you would do the courtesy in return of telling me what's happened to Voyager!" Phoebe looked at Mark in surprise, obviously shocked at his aggressive attitude.

Nechayev continued to glare at them for another few moments, and then waved away the security officers who had appeared in response to a silent alarm. "Very well, Mr. Johnson, since you insist. The last communication from Voyager was received two weeks ago. We have been unable to locate the ship, nor can we locate the Maquis vessel. One of the theories currently under investigation is that the Maquis ambushed Voyager, and are holding the crew in a secure base somewhere in the Badlands."

"That's ridiculous," Phoebe said. "Voyager surpasses anything the Maquis could have in terms of firepower. There is no way they could have captured her."

"I agree," Nechayev said, unexpectedly. "The other possibility is that Captain Janeway decided to join forces with the Maquis and has defected to their side." There was definite malice in her smile.

"That's an even more nonsensical statement!" Mark said. "Kathryn Janeway is intensely loyal to Starfleet. She would never betray her oath, or her command."

Nechayev said, "Remember that Captain Janeway was once held prisoner by the Cardassians. Perhaps she found it easier than you suppose to betray an organization which made a treaty with her captors, who after all were responsible for the torture of her mentor and commanding officer. There are many who view the Cardassians as the enemy."

She looked into his eyes to see the impact of her words. "Or perhaps your fiancée found the Maquis captain very persuasive. He is a most charming, and handsome, man."

Mark took a step forward and opened his mouth but before he could get any words out, Phoebe grabbed his arm and pulled. He allowed himself to be led out of the room.

Phoebe didn't let go of him until they had exited onto the street. She turned to him. "And you were worried about my temper! Just out of curiosity, what did I stop you from saying?"

Mark was struggling to regain his equilibrium. "Nothing. I was just going to try and strangle her and probably get myself thrown into a high security lockup for the next century or two."

"Don't take what she said personally, Mark. It's obvious she was just trying to rattle our cage."

"I know. But she may have told us something important without meaning to."

"What? Nothing she said made any sense."

"She said, 'There are many who view the Cardassians as the enemy.'" Mark hesitated, and then went on reluctantly. "Kathryn had mentioned some concern about Cardassian activity in the Badlands. It could be that they attacked Voyager, and Starfleet doesn't want this to become public knowledge yet, because of the treaty between the Federation and Cardassia."

Phoebe looked ashen. "Oh, my God, Kathryn—"

Mark enveloped her in a hug. "Don't worry about her, Phoebe. Kathryn is a tough and experienced Starfleet Captain. Voyager is one of the Fleet's most advanced ships, with state of the art technology. I'm betting that they come through this okay." He silently tried to believe his own words.

"Then what could have happened?"

"I don't know, but I'm not going to give up until I find out."

~*~

Mark recognized the woman who answered the door, having met her at various Starfleet functions he'd attended with Kathryn. "Mrs. Paris?"

She smiled politely. "Come in, Dr. Johnson, my husband is expecting you. His study is the second door on the left."

Admiral Paris rose from behind his desk and shook hands with Mark. "Have a seat, Johnson. Can I offer you something to drink?"

Mark took a seat and accepted a glass of synthahol. "Thanks for agreeing to see me, Admiral. I'm sorry to disturb you at home."

The Admiral didn't look perturbed. "I gather you've had enough of Starfleet Headquarters for a while."

Mark laughed shortly, without humor. "I think the security guards have been given my holoimage with orders to shoot on sight."

"You _have_ made rather a nuisance of yourself over there during the past several weeks, young man, along with Miss Janeway."

Mark said, "I take it you know why I'm here, sir. All I've been able to find out is that all communication with Voyager ceased six weeks ago, and that no one is willing to say, on or off the record, what's going on."

The admiral grunted. "And you came to me, hoping I'd be able to fill you in. Well, I'm sorry I can’t help you, but I'm officially out of the loop myself. 'Too close to the situation' is how they put it."

"Because your son, Tom, was on board Voyager."

"Yes, because of the boy. Hell of a situation." The admiral studied his glass for a moment. "That's the second time in the past few months I've been told that."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Kathryn. Last time I spoke with her, right before Voyager departed. I wanted to know why she hadn't told me she had secured Tom's release from the correctional facility, why she insisted on bringing him along on the mission. She told me I was too close to the situation to think objectively, that I had never been objective where my son was concerned." He lifted his glass to his lips. "No one else would have the nerve to say something like that to me, not even my wife. Kathryn always did have balls. No offense."

"None taken. She'd take that as a compliment." Mark swallowed some more of his drink. "You said you were out of the loop 'officially.' What can you tell me unofficially?"

The admiral smiled briefly. "The leading theory at the moment is that Voyager was badly damaged by one of the plasma streams in the Badlands. But that's poppycock. The new neural gelpack technology was designed specifically for navigation under extreme circumstances. And we'd have found the wreck by now. The other theory, which is _not_ official, is that the Cardassians are responsible."

"Nechayev said something that let me to think along those lines. That is, in between denigrating Kathryn’s loyalty and casting aspersions on her character."

"Don't take Nechayev too seriously, Johnson. She can be a cold-hearted bitch, but she is a competent administrator. Her major problem is a tendency to see conspiracies everywhere. Humph. Maybe she should be in Security or Intelligence instead of Fleet Operations. She also is jealous of bright young rising stars out in the field. Tried to take on Jean-Luc Picard not too many years ago."

"Of the Enterprise?"

"The one and only. Don't need to tell you who won that round. No, don't let Nechayev's personal comments get to you."

"What do you think it is, Admiral?"

"I don't trust those Cardassian bastards. But then, I'm not exactly unbiased. I suppose you know the story."

Mark nodded. He knew the full details about the Admiral's and Kathryn's capture, back when she had been on her first assignment, just a green Ensign on the science track. He forced his mind away from the images of a Cardassian prison camp.

Admiral Paris continued. "No debris has been recovered. I know my Kathryn Janeway. She and Voyager wouldn't go down without a fight, and there would be plenty of evidence if there was a battle. And Kathryn would've notified Command on first sighting of any Cardassian vessels." He sighed. "Either they were taken totally by surprise, or there's something else involved about which we have no clue."

Mark shifted restlessly in his seat. "I presume something is being done to eliminate at least one of those possibilities."

The admiral nodded. "Our contacts on Cardassia Prime, both official and otherwise, are digging around. If the Cardies have Voyager, we'll hear about it."

Mark stood up and held out his hand to the Admiral. "Thank you very much for your time, sir. And I'm sorry about your son."

Admiral Paris looked back at him squarely. "Don't be. I lost him a long time before he ever set foot on Voyager."


	2. Chapter 2

When he felt he couldn't put it off any longer, Mark traveled to Indiana to see Gretchen Janeway. It had been five months since her stroke.

She smiled warmly at him, "Oh, Mark it's so good to see you, dear." He kissed her cheek and sat down next to her on the couch. He was relieved to see she looked pretty much the same as she had the last time he and Kathryn had visited except that she was thinner and her hair had gotten a bit more gray.

She gestured towards a tray on the coffee table. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Mmm. Your caramel brownies will make it worth the trip."

"They're replicated," Gretchen said apologetically. "I haven't quite gotten back to full speed yet, particularly in the kitchen."

"No reason why you should, Gretchen. You deserve to take it easy for a bit."

They sat together in companionable silence for a while, until Gretchen spoke. "How are you holding up, Mark?"

He looked at her, startled. "I should be asking you that."

She smiled wryly, and it tugged at his heart to see Kathryn's expression on her mother's face. "I've been through this before, with Edward. I know what it's like to love a Starfleet officer. They take an oath of duty, and we make no less of a declaration that we're prepared to give them up at a moment's notice, know that every time they go out there's a real possibility we'll never see them again."

He bowed his head so she wouldn't see the rush of tears into his eyes. "I make it through each day telling myself that she's okay, that she's going to come back. I try my damndest to keep myself occupied with work. And every night I pray that she'll be back tomorrow." He swallowed. "But Gretchen, she's your daughter. It's different when it's your child."

She nodded, and turned towards a picture on the mantelpiece. "Goldenbird. That"s what her father always called her. She was his favorite, and he always knew she would follow in his footsteps. She was so like him, so bright and bold and curious about everything. Everything always came easy for her, yet she seemed to go out of her way looking for challenges. Even as a little girl, she always forged straight ahead to her goal and to hell with the consequences."

He smiled, despite himself. "I remember. She was a feisty little character. We got into our share of scrapes together when we were growing up."

"You're being generous, Mark. I know that you were usually the voice of reason, trying to get her to stay out of trouble."

Mark laughed. "Not that I was ever successful."

They sat there for the rest of the afternoon, exchanging memories. As Mark was about to leave, he saw the mist of tears in Gretchen’s eyes. "The last time she was captured, I didn't even know about it until after she was freed. It's not knowing that hurts the most."

Mark squeezed her hand, drawing comfort as much as offering it. "She's coming back to us, Gretchen. She has to."

~*~

He had just gotten out of the shower when his comm unit beeped. Setting it for audio only, he said, "Mark Johnson."

"Mark, it's Phoebe. What happened to your video feed?"

"Hold on just a second." Mark pulled a shirt over his head, and then fiddled with the controls. "Okay now?"

"Much better. Sorry if I caught you at an inconvenient moment." She paused.

Mark didn't have the patience to deal with Phoebe just then. He'd had yet another bad night, filled with a recurring nightmare of seeing Kathryn plunging off the edge of a cliff. The dream had started several weeks before and was only getting worse. "Phoebe, there's obviously something you want to say. Just spit it out."

"All right." Phoebe bit her lip. "I just heard that Starfleet has declared a change in Voyager's official status."

Mark felt the blood draining out of his face. "What is it? Tell me the exact phrasing they used."

"'Missing, presumed destroyed, all hands lost.'"

"They can't do that!"

"Mark--"

"They cant _do_ that! They can't give up on her like that! They can't stop until they find her!"

"Mark, calm down and listen to me! It's been 8 months since Voyager disappeared without a trace. During that time they've tracked down every lead they had, exhausted every possibility. They found nothing. Mark, it's time to let it go."

"No! They can't give up so easily!" Mark felt the growing panic inside of him, the same feeling of despair that he had in the middle of the night. _There’s nothing I can do to save her._

Phoebe was obviously alarmed at the expression on his face. "Mark, you've always been so calm and rational. Surely you can see that Starfleet had the search go on for much longer than absolutely necessary. They covered every inch of the Badlands, they've had operatives check all of the Cardassian Empire. Hell, I don't think they would have done so much without all the pressure we've brought to bear. But it's over. Voyager is gone, and it's time we faced the fact that Kathryn isn't coming back."

"I can't believe you're giving up on her, Phoebe. My God, how can you just accept that? Until I see a body, I'm going to keep on believing that Kathryn Janeway is alive and well and coming back to me." He terminated the comm signal abruptly.

Phoebe sighed, felt her own tears begin. She ached for Kathryn, of course, but also for the man she had always considered her brother. She knew how much Mark loved Kathryn, knew how long he'd loved her. Her whole life, Mark had always been there. It had taken a long time for the friendship to blossom into romance, but there had never been any question of Mark's feelings for Kathryn. She sighed again, and hoped Mark wouldn't do anything foolish.

It wasn't until several hours later that she was able to raise him on the comm system. His face looked worn, his eyes red, but at least his demeanor was calm.

"Mark, where have you been?" she said, concerned.

"I took the dogs out for a long walk, along the beach." His voice was dead.

"Are you all right?" She knew it was a foolish question, but one that she had to ask.

"No. But I will be."

"There's one more thing, Mark."

He laughed, a bitter sound. "What else can you possibly have to tell me, Phoebe?"

"The memorial service is scheduled for next Tuesday at thirteen hundred hours, in the James T. Kirk Memorial Hall, Main Complex, Starfleet Headquarters."

"I'm not going."

"Mark, you have to be there."

"No. A memorial service is for people who are dead. I'm not going to give up hope yet. Kathryn's still alive. And she's going to come home."

"Mark, I'm not going to argue with you now. But a memorial service is to celebrate people's lives. You owe her that much."

~*~

He was numb, incapable of feeling. It was as if he'd been hurting so much for so long that all the nerves in his body had simply overloaded and shut down. 

There was never any doubt that he would attend the memorial service. He escorted Gretchen and Phoebe, slowing his pace to accommodate the slight limp which was the only visible reminder of Gretchen's stroke. 

The huge hall was filled to capacity. There were several civilians, the families and close friends of the Voyager crew. The Admiralty was well represented. Many of them had known Kathryn personally. In addition, there were crewmen from many of the ships of the Fleet. Not all of them could be stationed in the sector; many must have taken leave specifically to attend. 

As they were being ushered to their reserved seats, Commander Will Riker approached. "Please accept my condolences for your loss. Kathryn was a hell of an officer, and her presence will be sorely missed."

"I wasn't aware you knew Kathryn," Phoebe said.

"Oh, yes, we were at the Academy together. Even went out one time." Riker smiled. "But I couldn't compete with her honors thesis."

The Betazoid woman with Riker looked at Mark, then took his hand and squeezed it sympathetically. She didn't say anything, but he knew that she of all the people present understood how he felt. 

There were many speeches. Most centered on Voyager's commanding officer, her background and career. They spoke of her past commands, her courage in the face of adversity, and how she had truly embodied the spirit of Starfleet. She had been both scientist and military commander, explorer and fighter. Starfleet's highest military honor was awarded posthumously.

The rest of the senior staff was not ignored. Many had had distinguished careers of their own. Mark saw Joanna Cavitt bow her head when her husband's name was mentioned. The tall blond boy next to her did not move, although his eyes looked suspiciously wet. A small group of Vulcans were in attendance as well. They did not, of course, exhibit any emotional response at the name of Lieutenant Tuvok. Others were not so restrained. Mark saw an elderly Asian couple begin to weep when the name of Ensign Kim was mentioned. The Operations Officer had been fresh out of the Academy, on his first assignment.

The names of the rest of the crew were read out. After a respectful moment of silence, and the playing of "Taps", the service was finally over.

The crowd lingered in the lobby, where portraits of the Voyager crew had been erected. The best and the brightest, the old recruiting slogan went. All of them in the prime of life, none of them ready to die. Mark found himself in front of Kathryn's portrait. She was in full dress uniform, her hair bound up in what she'd laughingly referred to as her "bun of steel." Her face was calm, yet watchful, a look of steeled resolve in her eyes. She looked every inch the exemplary Starfleet officer eulogized that day.

This was not how he thought of her. This was not the woman whose absence he mourned every waking moment, or who haunted his dreams at night.

Eventually Phoebe tapped his arm. "Mom's ready to go now."

They were all silent on the journey home. As Gretchen kissed him goodbye, she whispered, "You have to find closure, Mark."

He didn't reply. 

~*~

Phoebe swore under her breath. Even on tiptoe, she still couldn't quite reach the box all the way at the back of the closet's top shelf. "How the hell did Kathryn manage to stick something all the way up here, anyways?" she muttered.

"I probably put it there for her." Mark gently shouldered her aside. "Let me try. Ah, got it." The box fell to the floor with a resounding thump.

"Engineering texts?" Phoebe said, looking at the contents. "God, I don't think these have been touched in years."

Mark shrugged and went back to the task he'd been doing in the other room. Phoebe looked around the bedroom. Except for the rented furniture, it was completely bare. All the clothes, toiletries and other personal items had already been crated.

She walked through the rest of the small apartment. A pile of boxes by the door was the only sign that these now sterile rooms had ever been lived in.

Mark straightened up and rubbed his lower back. "That's everything."

Phoebe nodded. "There was so little to pack. I can't believe Kathryn had so few things here."

Mark said quietly, "She probably took a lot of things with her on the ship. And anyways, she kept most of her stuff at my place."

"I don't know why she insisted on maintaining a separate apartment to begin with."

For a split second, Mark heard Kathryn's voice instead of Phoebe's. _You know that question you keep asking me? Let’s set a date when I get back._

He shook his head to clear it and then answered. "She needed her own space. There were times when she just really needed to be alone." 

Phoebe decided it was time to change the subject. "Thanks again, Mark, for helping me pack up this place. I really don't think Mom was up to doing it."

"Glad to be of service."

She continued, "I thought you were going to refuse."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It's hard to say no to one of the Janeway women."

She continued to look at him, and he saw the sudden narrowing of her eyes. "God, Phoebe, should I be bracing myself for a pitcher of ice water?"

"What are you talking about?"

"A pitcher of ice water. Isn't that your preferred method of forcing someone to wake up and face reality?" He was referring to the aftermath of the deaths of Edward Janeway and Justin Tighe, Kathryn's first fiancé. Kathryn had become severely withdrawn and it was Phoebe's ungentle intervention which had helped bring her out of it.

Phoebe flushed. "OK, I admit I was thinking along those lines, but not literally. Mark, you still haven't accepted the fact that she's gone."

"Phoebe, just back off, all right? Not everyone reacts the same way and I really resent your telling me how I should be feeling right now."

"I care about you, Mark, and I'm worried about what you're doing to yourself. The memorial service was a month ago. You're still going around like you hope Kathryn is just going to walk through that door. And you're still very bitter against Starfleet."

"I think they gave up on the search too soon."

"Would you listen to yourself? It was only because we made ourselves such a royal pain in the butt that they kept it up as long as they did. Look at the Equinox, for example."

"What about it?" Mark wasn't interested but at least it had gotten her off topic.

"The Equinox was a small science ship. They were lost around the same time as Voyager, but the news wasn't played up as much by the media. And their commanding officer was no slouch, either. Ransom, I think his name was."

"Yes. He was a noted exobiologist."

"You see?" Phoebe persisted. "Starfleet did what they could. You could even say they went way beyond what was necessary. Please just let it go, Mark. Please let _her_ go. How do you think Kathryn would feel if she knew what you were doing to yourself?"

Mark held up his hands. "For God's sake, Phoebe, can we please call a truce? You just don't know when to stop pushing, you're just like--" he stopped suddenly.

She looked at him for a moment, but all she said was, "Let's get this stuff on the transport."

~*~

Back at his own house, Mark wandered around, unable to settle down. Packing up Kathryn's belongings had struck a note of finality, more than any eulogy had done. 

Phoebe's words had hit home, too, more than he was willing to admit. He _was_ still hoping that Kathryn would miraculously turn up.

_They had been on the beach, watching a magnificent Pacific sunset. As the last bit of color slowly faded and evening was coming on, Kathryn had suddenly turned to him._

_"I want you to promise me something, Mark."_

_"You know I'd do anything for you, Kath," he said laughingly._

_"I'm serious. If something should ever happen to me, I want you to promise me that you'll keep on living, that you'll make every effort to get over me and go on with your life."_

_"Kathryn, I don't want to talk about this now."_

_"Promise me, Mark. I know what it's like to lose the one person you love more than anything. I wanted to die when Justin did. I just wanted to give up. But if I had, you and I would never have found each other again, and I would never know the love and happiness that you've given me." She had smiled then, and slipped her arms around his neck. "Don’t worry. I have no intention of leaving you for a long, long time."_

He walked into the bedroom. He knew if he opened the right side of the closet, he would see her clothes still hanging there, just as she had left them. He knew which drawers of the bureau held her lingerie. Her books were still on the shelves in the living room. If he concentrated, he could almost hear her voice in the echoes, that husky drawl that he'd always said was "too damn sexy for a Starship captain." He could almost imagine that he caught the scent of her perfume, or felt the touch of her hand. 

It struck him suddenly that it was all a charade, that he was deluding himself. For the longest time, he had lulled himself to sleep by pretending that she was just away on a mission. Was this really the way he wanted to spend the rest of his life?

_Damn you, Kathryn, how could you just leave me? You were always so strong and fearless. How can I go on without you?_

For a long time he stood still, lost in thought. The dogs' barking eventually brought him out of it. After he tended to their needs, he went back into the bedroom. There he began to methodically pack up the rest of Kathryn's possessions.


	3. Chapter 3

Six months later, Mark strolled down a corridor in his office building, his eyes fixed on the PADD in his hands. He turned the corner without looking up and crashed head-on into someone coming from the opposite direction.

"Oh, my, I'm sorry. Here, let me help you." He offered his hand to the young dark haired woman to help her to her feet, then bent down to retrieve the contents of her bag that had spilled out. "Are you all right?"

"I seem to be in one piece, thanks," she said, trying to restore some order to herself and her belongings.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am," Mark said contritely. "Really, I have no excuse. I should watch where I'm going."

"It's okay."

"I'm very, very sorry." 

She held up one hand. "If you don't stop apologizing, I’m _really_ going to get angry at you,” she said with the hint of a smile.

"Okay, but only on condition you let me buy you a cup of coffee to make up for it."

"I don't know, you look harmless enough, but …" He opened his mouth to protest but then he saw her grin.

"Mark Johnson," he said, taking her hand.

"Yes, I know. I've seen you around. I'm Carly Stern."

"Do you work here, Carly?"

"Library archives. I've been here for almost a year."

"I don't remember running into you before," he said and then realized how it sounded. "Pun not intended."

"Good, I wouldn't want you to think that's funny."

"Actually, I used to be considered a pretty amusing guy," he said, "until. . ." His voice trailed off.

"Until when?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.

"Until I wasn't anymore." Mark quickly went back to the previous thread of conversation. "Seriously, I don't remember seeing you around."

She fumbled with her bag. "I've been on personal leave for the last four months, since my husband died."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

She looked away. "Yes, that seems to be the most common response."

"That's because most people don't know what to say to someone who's suffered a loss."

"Philosophy, Dr. Johnson?" she asked.

"No, personal experience," Mark said with a slight grimace. He forced a smile. "Come on, let's go get that cup of coffee."

At a table in the commissary, Mark learned that Carly's husband had been in Starfleet, stationed on a ship near the Cardassian border. He had been one of the early casualties of the outbreak of hostilities with the Dominion.

"My fiancée was Starfleet, too," he said, surprising himself with how matter-of-factly it came out.

"Captain Janeway of Voyager."

"Yes. I suppose you heard."

"It _was_ rather prominently featured in the news for a while." She sipped her coffee. "How long were you together?"

He smiled, a small and not entirely happy expression. "Over ten years. But we'd known each other practically our entire lives. We grew up together in the same small town in Indiana."

"My husband and I had just celebrated our fourth anniversary, two weeks before he—" her voice broke. She dabbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, I should be past the point of breaking down every time I talk about Greg."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "No one can tell you how to deal with your feelings, or tell you that you should be at a certain point in the mourning process. Everybody deals with things differently, and goes at his or her own pace."

She smiled, and he noticed how warm her brown eyes were. "You're a very nice man, Dr. Johnson, even if you did run me over."

~*~

"You're still here," Carly said wonderingly.

"What do you mean?" Mark was puzzled. They'd been wandering around the city's old historical district all afternoon. "Was I supposed to disappear or something?"

"No, I mean we've been spending a lot of time together over the past two months. I'm not used to having so much uninterrupted time with someone." She looked a bit sheepish. "It feels like the leave should have been up already, you know?"

Understanding dawned. "You're right. I never really thought about it, but I doubt Kathryn and I ever spent more than a few months together at a stretch before she would go off on yet another mission."

"Months, huh? Well, she was a captain. Greg was only a lieutenant and wasn't eligible for more than a few weeks at a time."

"Before you get too envious, I should tell you that captains, even on leave, are always looking ahead to the next assignment. I used to joke that maybe she should take up residence at the shipyards, she always spent so much time there checking on the refits. Also, Kathryn's leaves once she made captain, even though they were of longer duration, were fewer and farther between than they were earlier in her career." He paused, remembering.

_The longest time Kathryn had ever been away had been when a planned one year mission in the Beta Quadrant had gradually turned into two. Communications hadn't always been possible; often there were gaps of several weeks or even months until he would receive messages. When she had returned, their coming together had been like the eruption of a volcano, or some other equally strong force of nature. Afterwards, Mark had released a long breath that was almost a sigh._

_"Wow. I guess you really missed me," he said._

_"Two years is a very long time to be away from the one that you love.”_

_"And I guess it's even harder when you go for so long without any 'intimacy.'" He couldn't keep the slight questioning tone from his voice._

_She raised herself on one elbow. "Mark, I've been completely faithful to you."_

_"I never doubted you," he said and then hesitated a bit before continuing. "But it wouldn't matter; I mean, I'd understand if you weren't."_

_She smiled wryly. "It sounds very open-minded, but somehow I don't think you really mean that." She corrected herself. "Or rather, I hope you don't mean it the way it sounds."_

_He stroked her hair and smiled back. "Don't worry about me. Since I met you, Kathryn Janeway, I lost all interest in women."_

_"Very funny, Mark."_

_"Seriously, Kath, you're worth waiting for."_

_"So are you. I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have."_

_He couldn't help asking. "I'm sure you have opportunities, though, on the ship. A lot of lonely people cooped up together, especially on a long mission."_

_She was silent for a moment. "Actually, there's a lot less opportunity than you might imagine. A ship is basically a small community; everyone knows everyone else's business and who's seeing who, who's involved and so on. And on a deep space mission, you're stuck with each other for the duration. That can make it tough if an affair doesn't work out."_

_"And let's not forget Starfleet protocol. Isn't there something in the handbook about no fraternization?"_

_"It's not that cut and dried," Kathryn said. "A lot depends on the disparity in rank between those involved, as well as the direct chain of command."_

_He pulled her closer. "So as captain, you have a lot less opportunity to play around than most."_

_She kissed him before answering. "Yes, so you're going to have to make allowances for me when I first get back, especially when I've been gone a long time."_

_He nuzzled her neck. "I think I like the way you react after a long separation. Just don't stay away for so long again, OK?"_

With a shock, Mark realized that Carly had been talking and he hadn't been paying attention. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Speaking of time," Carly said again, "it's getting late. We should be going back."

"How about dinner?"

She began walking faster, and he had to strive to catch up to her. "It's late, Mark. I really don't think—"

He grabbed her arm. "What's the matter, Carly?"

"Nothing's the matter," she said, trying to pull free. He considered tightening his grip, but then let go.

"Are you sure? Then why not have dinner with me? You _do_ have to eat."

She hesitated. "I'm just not sure this is such a good idea."

"Why not?"

Carly looked him full in the eye. "It's not dinner that scares me, Mark. It's what happens next." She sighed. "Since Greg died, I haven't--"

He held up one hand. "Hey, I understand. I'm in the same position, more or less. I haven't been with anyone since Kathryn--" he swallowed but forced himself to continue, "since she's been gone."

Carly continued meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "I didn’t think you had. I'm going to be honest with you, Mark. I like you very much, and I've enjoyed spending time with you. But I'm not going to compete with a ghost. I don't know if you're really over her, and I don't think it's fair to either of us if you're not."

For some reason, her words stung. "What about Greg? Wouldn't I be the one competing with a memory?"

"No."

"How can you be so sure?" he challenged.

"Because I know how I feel," Carly said quietly. "It was a horrible shock when I heard he was dead, but I had a body to bury. It had a certain finality. You, you existed in limbo for so long, not knowing what had happened to her. It was only after Starfleet officially declared them dead that you had any sense of closure." She paused and then continued. "I see how you talk about her, how you sometimes get awfully quiet in the middle of a conversation. And I know that she's still very much on your mind."

"OK, I admit that," he said, striving to keep his voice steady. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to ignore you at times, it's just--" He closed his eyes for a moment. _Kathryn's gone, and I feel so alone. Gone. The word is dead. She's dead and all I have left are memories._

He saw the look of pity in Carly's eyes and came to a sudden decision. "But what if I told you I was ready to go on with my life, leave the past behind, and begin something new?"

"I'd like to believe you," she said. He could sense her resolve wavering.

"Then do."

A few hours later, Mark looked at the sleeping woman beside him. Her dark hair was strewn on the pillow and her face held a look of peace. He shifted restlessly, trying not to disturb her. He was tired, too, but his mind would not stop, wouldn't let him relax enough to drift off. He was thinking about Kathryn.

It had been a shock to realize that in all the years they’d been a couple, very little of that time was actually spent together. There had always been another mission, another ship. She had been totally committed to Starfleet and her career. She was an explorer, an adventurer, while he had been content to make his journeys those of the mind. She had roamed the stars while he had remained on Earth. 

Oh, he had no complaints about their relationship. When they were together it had been wonderful. They seemed to complement each other so well, and he knew now it was because she had given him the chance to experience the thrill of adventure, the unknown, while he had given her a sense of comfort and stability. He had been her anchor, keeping the home fires burning while she was away.

When she'd return home, the flame would roar into full fledged passion, taking them to breathtaking heights. It was the memory of that fire that he had used to keep himself warm during her absences. Now the thought intruded that perhaps it was time for something more permanent, more sustained. Home, a family, children—all the things that he had always known he'd wanted, but had always put off thinking about because it would be so hard to fit them into Kathryn's career.

But she was gone now. And here he was, with a kind and loving woman, who had suffered through the same kinds of separations and heartache as he had. She understood, and perhaps even better than he himself did. Yes, Kathryn was gone from his life forever, but that didn't mean that all opportunity for love had disappeared as well.


	4. Chapter 4

Phoebe lowered herself carefully into the chair. "Would you please stop hovering, Mark? I'm a pregnant woman, not an invalid."

"Just wanted to make sure you didn't need any help." He smiled. "I must say you're looking swell."

She groaned. "Don't think you're so original. In the past seven months I think I've heard them all." She perused the menu for a few moments, then glanced over at him. "You're looking pretty good yourself. I think married life agrees with you."

"Thanks," Mark said. "It's great."

"Still on the honeymoon?"

"It's only been a couple of months since the wedding, Phoebe, I think we're still entitled."

She smiled back at him. "Have you and Carly thought about starting a family?"

"We've talked about it, yes, and I think we'll start trying soon." Mark motioned over to the waiter and they placed their orders.

"Speaking of which, do you know the gender of the upcoming arrival?" Mark admitted to himself that he had been curious for a while.

"No, we decided we didn't want to know." She paused as their food arrived. "But we did decide that if it's a boy, we'll name him Edward after my father."

"And if it's a girl?"

Phoebe said, "Her name will be Kathryn."

Mark reached over and took her hand. "I think that's wonderful. It's also very nice of your husband to let you choose the names. Doesn't Hal have any preferences of his own?"

"Well, all of Hal's family members are still alive, and he says he really doesn't care what we name the baby. Just as long as it's not 'Junior.' Add the fact that he's a saint anyways, for putting up with me and my moods."

"You mean now that your hormones are off the wall or are you referring to the way you are in general?" he teased.

She punched his arm and laughed. He laughed, too. 

As the meal progressed, Phoebe thought once again how much better Mark was looking, compared to a year ago. Part of it was that he had finally come to terms with his loss, but she knew who had been responsible for the majority of his healing process. Phoebe genuinely liked Carly, and was very glad that Mark had found someone like her. Two wounded souls who had come together, and made each other whole again.

~*~

"Good morning, darling. You're certainly getting a late start this morning."

Mark leaned over and gave his wife a kiss. "I was up in the middle of the night and had trouble falling back asleep."

"Problem?" Carly asked.

"No, just a bad dream," he replied, pouring himself some coffee.

"Want to talk about it?" she said quietly.

"Not really." He took a sip. "Same old demons of the night, or maybe the Thai food at dinner was a little too spicy for me. At any rate, it's nothing."

She nodded, not wanting to pry. They were respectful of each other's private hurts, realized that as much as they loved each other, there were some things that needed to be dealt with alone. 

Carly turned on the news, noting that it was already a few minutes past the hour, and that they'd probably missed the lead story.

"---since they disappeared on that Stardate. The full details have not yet been disclosed by Starfleet Command, but they have confirmed that a message has been received from the U.S.S. Voyager, presumed destroyed with all hands four years ago. We repeat, the U.S.S. Voyager, long presumed lost, has been found."

"My God." Mark had risen involuntarily and his face had gone completely white. 

The comm unit began to beep. Carly answered it quickly. "Yes, Phoebe, he knows. We just saw the report on the news." She listened carefully, then said, "Okay, I'll tell him."

She went over to where Mark was still standing, staring at the image of the newscaster who was now prattling on about something else. "That was Phoebe. She said to log on to the Starfleet Network and access the Voyager files. They have a complete crew manifest posted, as well as information about Voyager's location and an outline of what happened. There will be a full briefing for all of the families tomorrow at Starfleet Headquarters at 0900 hours."

With trembling hands, Mark brought up the information on the computer screen. There it was, in bold letters, under the heading of "Current Crew." Commanding officer: Janeway, Kathryn. Rank: Captain.

"My God," he said again slowly. "She's alive. Kathryn is alive."

~*~

It was almost harder to attend the briefing the next day than it had been to go to the memorial service years earlier. Mark had spent the rest of that day, and most of the night, perusing the official Starfleet reports. Carly had quietly cancelled his appointments. She had left him alone, sensing his need for solitude to assimilate the staggering news.

Before he left in the morning, he knew they had to talk.

"Carly?"

She didn't look up. "You should be going, Mark. You don't want to be late."

"Carly, I don't know what to say," he said, willing her to meet his eyes. "But I want you to know that this doesn't change anything between us."

She did look up then. "Can you honestly say that?" Her lips twisted painfully as if she were trying to smile but had forgotten how. "Don't get me wrong, Mark--I'm glad she's alive, that all of them are." Her voice dropped so low he had to strain to hear her. "But there's no denying that she was the love of your life, Mark, and now you found out that she's still alive."

Mark gripped Carly's shoulders. "Carly, I will always love Kathryn. But that part of my life is over. You're my wife. My life is with you now."

She quietly began to cry. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. I wasn't really worried, I suppose—"

"Carly, what you and I have is very precious to me. I don't know how I would have ever gone on without you."

Once again, she tried to smile, this time with a bit more success. "Thank you. But I was thinking about what if the situation were reversed, what if it were Greg who was alive." She was quiet for a few seconds. "But that isn't going to happen."

He held her close and then said, "I've got to go."

At the briefing, the emotional climate was highly confused. It was a perfect reflection, Mark thought, of how he himself was feeling. Disbelief alternated with elation, happiness at Voyager's survival warred with guilt over having given up hope.

For some families, news of Voyager's discovery was the final death knell. The list of confirmed dead was extensive. Some crewmembers had survived the initial trip to the Delta Quadrant only to die months or years later.

Mark glanced around the room. The overwhelming majority of those gathered were civilians. Admiral Paris was one of the few Starfleet officers present, and Mark wondered if he was there in an official or personal capacity. Lieutenant Thomas Paris was listed as Voyager's helmsman. He wondered how the Admiral felt about that.

There were some new faces; he guessed that they were relatives of the missing Maquis. Many of the 'Fleet families present were bitter that the crew had welcomed the surviving Maquis into their ranks, the very people whom they'd been sent to capture. Starfleet Command had been very quiet on the subject so far. There was a tacit acceptance of the field commissions that Voyager's captain had granted, an acknowledgement of the dire circumstances that made such actions necessary. However, what would happen when Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant was very much up in the air.

Some of those who had attended the earlier ceremony were absent. Try though he might, Mark could not find Joanna Cavitt. Her husband's name had been on the casualty list; he had died during the journey to the Delta Quadrant. Mark didn't blame her for not coming.

Most of the meeting was devoted to rehashing the information already made public. How Voyager and the Maquis ship had been swept off to the Delta Quadrant by the mysterious Caretaker, and the various adventures that had befallen them afterwards. How they had finally made contact with Starfleet Command.

The initial euphoria wore off considerably at the realization that Voyager was still 60,000 light years away from home. Barring some major strokes of luck, it would be nearly a lifetime until they returned. And the Delta Quadrant was a hostile place for a lone ship. Voyager had already encountered the Borg, and other species even more dangerous. There was a very good chance that they would not make it back at all.

Not surprisingly, some people were angry at the reawakening of their hopes. There had been a finality to the situation, as bitter as it was, and now they existed in limbo once again.

 _So nothing has really changed, after all_ , Mark thought, as he left the conference chamber.

~*~

Phoebe called to Mark outside of the chamber. He waited for her to catch up.

"Where's Hal, and your mother?" he asked.

"Hal stayed home to baby-sit Kathy. I told Mom to go on ahead, that I would bring you by later." Phoebe glanced around. "Where's Carly?"

"She didn't come with me," he said.

"Why not?"

"Use your head, Phoebe," he snapped, worn out from the emotional strain of the last twenty four hours. "Did you really expect her to come to hear details about my long-dead fiancée, now miraculously restored to life?"

"Your _wife_ shouldn't have a problem with that, Mark. Or should she?"

"What are you trying to say, Phoebe?"

"I mean that yes, you found out that Kathryn is still alive, but she's a hell of a long way away and it'll be 60 years till you see her again, if ever. Meanwhile, Carly, who basically helped you put your life back together, should be at your side now."

"Carly isn't jealous. She knows that I never stopped loving Kathryn, and she knows the hell I was going through. She also knows how much I love _her_ , that _she’s_ the one I married, and that my place is with her now. Jesus, Phoebe, Carly's happy that Kathryn isn't dead. But it only reinforces that _her_ dead husband wasn't so lucky, and won’t be making a reappearance."

Phoebe bit her lip in contrition. "I'm sorry, Mark, I didn't mean to imply--"

"It's okay, Phoebe, don't sweat it. We're all emotional wrecks right now." Mark ran a hand through his hair wearily.

"No, I didn't mean anything about Carly. I like her. I'm really glad you married her, Mark. She's very good for you. Yes, Kathryn is my sister—"

"Phoebe, there's no question that if Voyager hadn't been lost that Kathryn and I would have gotten married. But life has a funny way of not always working out the way we plan. Whether I wanted it to or not, the situation changed, and I moved on with my life." He added, "And most likely Kathryn did as well."

Phoebe studied him for a moment, then apparently changed her mind about what she was going to say. "Come on, Mom's waiting to see you."

~*~

"So basically, the only real piece of news that we didn't already know is that Starfleet is going to attempt to communicate via the same alien network," Phoebe recounted to her husband. "Each family gets to send one short message."

"Good," said Hal. "If it works, they won't feel quite so isolated, perhaps. Do they think that regular communications might be possible?"

"Nobody knows for sure." Mark was quiet for a moment. "Well, I won't keep you. I know you must be eager to get started composing your letter."

"Where do you think you're going, Mark?" Gretchen asked.

"Home?" he suggested.

"Don't you want to include a message to Kathryn?"

"I assumed--"

Gretchen said quietly, "Mark, you're just as much a part of Kathryn's family as you ever were. As much as things have changed over the past few years, that's one thing that never will."

Phoebe nodded. "Sit down, Mark, and start writing," she ordered as she handed him a padd.

~*~

Hours later, Mark and Phoebe sat outside on the grass, looking up at the stars. Mark felt vaguely drunk, with fatigue, with emotion, and quite possibly due to the synthahol they'd been quietly putting away.

Phoebe carefully lowered the sleeping baby to the blanket next to her. "Can I ask you something, Mark?"

"Go ahead."

"Why'd you write in your letter that you got married?"

"You read what I wrote?"

"Of course I did, just like you read everything that Mom and I wrote. What the hell, I don't think we have any secrets from each other. I don't think there’s anything you could say that would surprise me."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Because I'm not sure that was such a good idea."

He raised himself up on one elbow to face her. "Why not?"

"You know Kathryn. How loyal she is. She loved you, Mark. She honest to God loved you. I know she was a little commitment-shy, but I think that had more to do with Justin's death and her fear of somehow losing you, than anything else. How do you think she'll react knowing that you married someone else?"

"She probably expected me to move on, Phoebe. She knew from the outset that it would take her years to come home, that in all likelihood we thought she was dead. It must've killed her, but I'm sure she knew I'd eventually get over her and get on with my life."

"But you didn't get over her, at least not right away." She considered for a moment. "And you didn't go on with your life for a long time, either."

"No, I guess you're right about that." He poured himself another drink and refilled her glass as well. "But eventually, I did. You had a lot to do with it, you know."

"Modesty has never been one of my faults, Mark, but I can't believe you just said that. I talked to you till I was blue in the face, and I felt like nothing I said was sinking in."

"Oh, I may be slow—"

"And stubborn," Phoebe interjected.

"But I eventually _do_ learn. You were right, and it reminded me of a conversation that Kathryn and I once had."

"Oh?"

"Yes. She once made me promise that if she were to die, that I wouldn't mourn forever. She said that when Justin and your father were killed she was totally devastated, she wished that she were dead as well."

"That's where the ice water came in."

"I know. Anyways, she said that if she hadn't been forced to go on living, she would never have given herself the opportunity to fall in love again, would never have known the happiness that she found with me." He fell silent.

"And now you gave yourself the chance, and you've found happiness again."

"Yes, I have. And I pray that Kathryn gives herself that same chance."

"Do you honestly think she will?"

Instead of replying, he lifted his glass in a salute, and said quietly, "Here's to you, Kathryn and to love and happiness. God grant that you allow yourself to find both, and that you come home to us, your family, one day."

"To Kathryn."

They leaned back and watched the stars, imagining the path through the heavens being traversed by their words of love and comfort, till they reached their destination far away.

~*~

On a Starship sixty thousand light years away, a woman stood by a viewport holding a data padd in her hand. She wore an old-style uniform not seen on any Starfleet officers in the Alpha Quadrant for some time. The reflected starlight caught the highlights in her short auburn hair, and caused the captain's pips on her collar to gleam. 

A single tear fell as she gazed out and whispered, "Home."

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the first Voyager stories I wrote in 1999, inspired by m.c. moose's wonderful tales dealing with the early years of Janeway's relationship with Mark.


End file.
